


Era Long Passed

by tairyoku



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-05-31 18:54:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15125762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tairyoku/pseuds/tairyoku
Summary: Harry finds a key in the Potter vault that's missing the corresponding lock and it piques his interest.?? Honestly I wrote this outline 5 years ago I don't even know how I would summarize it anymore.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the notes to this story back around 2013 after rewatching At Worlds' End (and I avoided watching Stranger Tides until like, 2016). I didn't really want to post it until I had most of it written considering my habit of leaving things hanging for ages lol.
> 
> Anyway I wrote the first 2 parts back when I began drafting the plotline and then after being stuck in a cargo ship with no wifi for 13 hours and watching AWE again I started writing some more. I'm about halfway done with the original plan now so fingers crossed it should be finished.
> 
> This was planned to be a relatively short story anyway since I have a habit of making things get too long so don't expect it to be a long one!
> 
> As always, reviews are appreciated :) In the meantime, you can check out what I'm up to on instagram: wandernhunger :)

Sighing, Harry resisted the urge to simply flop down against a tall pile of galleons and just sleep. He muffled laughter a second later at the thought that he’d literally be rolling himself – and sleeping – on money.

               “Focus. Focus,” he shook his head to try and get back to what he was attempting to do; that is, sorting through the innumerable items and artifacts that were haphazardly littered around the Potter family vault. Why had no one bother to at least arrange them when they put them here? Then again, he heard that some items were only recently deposited, more like returned, after being wrongly seized by the Ministry for who-the-bloody-hell-knows-why.

He had long given up trying to sort everything out properly and for now simply focused on at least separating everything into piles such as books, heirlooms and artifacts, albums, et cetera. He picked up a worn leather-bound book that looked like a journal and knocked into a metallic chest next to it. Luckily, it didn’t fall from where it was on top of a small table, but his ears picked up the sound of something clattering and sliding against yet more coins.

Glancing around for the source of the noise – since it couldn’t have come from the chest – his quidditch-honed eyes caught a small metal item nestled near his feet amongst some sickles. Bending down carefully, Harry’s fingers sifted through the coins to pull out… a key?

Taking a closer look at it, he noted that not only did it _look_ ancient, but the thing was rough on the edges and sporting minor evidence of rust; surprising as most magical items seemed immune to such deterioration – as proven by some items in the vault that seemed like it didn’t belong in the last few _centuries_.

There wasn’t anything else attached to the key. Harry frowned and leaned in to look at the metal chest from before. If it fell from around there maybe it had to do with the chest? He was about to put the key into the lock of the chest before he realized the chest wasn’t actually locked in the first place.

Opening it, he found some jewelry, some old photos of what he assumed were the ancestors to whom once owned the items, and another key. Looking at the chest’s keyhole, he realized its key was the one inside the chest. Then… what was the key in his hand for?

Interest piqued, Harry spent some time rifling through the items nearby but all proved useless in giving him an indication what the key was for.

               “Whatever it is you open must be one seriously guarded treasure,” he mumbled as he ran his fingers over the mystery key. It looked ancient. If he had to relate the design to something it would be one of those olden jail-cell keys he saw sometimes in muggle movies he watched with Hermione.

Realizing he’d spent quite some time getting distracted by the key, Harry shook his head and decidedly slipped the key into his pocket. He’d think about it more another time. For now, he still had more sorting to do. Yay.


	2. Chapter 2

“Before I take a look at the documents you’ve brought back today,” the goblin Harry had put in charge of managing his accounts pulled out a drawer from beside him. “I’ve looked into the item you inquired about previously.”

Harry leaned forward as the old key came into view. He had given it to the goblin with a request to look into its origins and purpose. He thought about asking Hermione, but decided that the goblins might have a better chance digging into it.

               “It would seem that it was your mother that left this in your family vault not long before you were born. We’ve managed to ascertain that this is something of an heirloom in your mother’s family that has been passed down at least since the 1700s.”

Harry blinked in surprise to hear that it wasn’t something from his father, but his _mother_ ’s side of the family. Why had she decided to keep it in the Potter vault instead of giving it to Aunt Petunia? He assumed by the timing that his mum had decided to put it into the vault in case something had happened to them during the war – which did.

               “Did you manage to find out where it came from? Or if it has a matching chest in the vault?”

The old goblin nodded. “With the help of some contacts in the government, I’ve managed to track your ancestors from your mother’s side to a notable governor’s daughter to whom is most likely to have been where the key originated from.”

Harry leaned forward in interest. “What can you tell me about her?”

               “Not much,” the goblin admitted. “Most were rumours and tales that couldn’t be completely verified.” He paused as Harry nodded in understanding. “Her name was Elizabeth Swann. She had one son though was never married. There were stories that her son was likely begotten from her one romance with a William Turner, a blacksmith who had been known to be after her affections; at the displeasure of Miss Swann’s father.

“Mister Turner seems to have disappeared from records in his early twenties with many claims that he turned to a life of pirating, which rumouredly had brought Miss Swann into it for a short length of time. Her life prior to returning to her birthplace pregnant was uneventful; save for the probable discrimination she would have faced, having a child out of wedlock.”

A… pirate? Harry’s mind blanked at the random new piece of information. _Well, that’s something I could never have imagined_. “Is there anything about what the key could be for?”

               “Unfortunately, Mister Potter, there is none. All we could find was that Miss Swann had given the key to her son, though it seems likely that he didn’t know its purpose either.”

Harry frowned. _Why give it to him at all then?_ _Unless whatever it’s safeguarding is not meant to be opened._ He couldn’t seem to understand why she had not just destroyed the key then? Unless it was meant to be used eventually? That seemed like something Luna would have said; maybe it was destined to be found by him. Harry scoffed. He’d had enough of ‘destiny’ as it was.

The goblin had taken the time to look over the documents he’d asked Harry to complete and put them away, only to pull out a small file. “Here are all the documents I could find, along with records pertaining your family line on your mother’s side.”

               “Thank you. For the documents, and also for looking into my request so thoroughly,” said Harry sincerely. He’d have to look into it and maybe ask Hermione for a second opinion on the matter.

* * *

Harry pondered over the papers strewn over his living room floor. Hermione had added a few of her own papers to his file after he’d asked her to look into any records of Elizabeth Swann, William Turner and their known associates. It hadn’t turned up as much as he’d hoped. Basically, more rumours.

A wry smile pulled at his lips as he considered the… _stories_ Hermione had brought him. Davy Jones, immortal pirates, krakens? Harry shook his head, well, who was he to say anything. After all, if magic is real, why couldn’t these legends be?

Gently picking up one of the papers in front of him, Harry read over the location of the port town where Elizabeth Swann was born, and later died in. He didn’t know why he was so intrigued by this mystery. By all rights, he had plenty of other things he could be doing. Least of all, getting his life together after everyone else was starting to get over the war.

               “Guess it’s not time to settle down just yet, huh?”


	3. Chapter 3

_I could use a break anyway_ , he reasons to himself as he tossed some clothes into a satchel – spelled with that handy extension charm Hermione had taught him awhile back. _Honestly I’m probably overdue a good long holiday too_ , Harry continued, “I mean, I deserve to treat myself to that much, right?” he said pointedly to the pile of papers next to his bag. “…aaand I’m talking to inanimate objects now. God, I _do_ need a break.”  
  


Quickly, he shouldered the backpack and – with a last look around to make sure he didn’t forget anything – stepped into the floo.

* * *

Dusting himself off and mentally giving himself a pat on the back for a relatively smooth exit from the floo, Harry looked around the flat that was slowly becoming more and more familiar. “Ron, ‘Mione!” he called out.  
  


               "In the kitchen, Harry!” came Hermione’s voice. He headed over to see Hermione fixing herself a cup of tea while Ron sat at the table, yawning with wand in hand, dishes washing themselves in the sink. “Would you like a cuppa, Harry?”  
  


Shaking his head, Harry replied “no thanks ‘Mione. Just came to drop a couple of things and let you know I’ll be gone for awhile.”  
  


               “Gone?” Echoed Ron, sitting up straighter, more alert. “Gone where?”  
  


Harry cleared his throat, stalling as he placed a couple of items on the kitchen table in front of them. “Jamaica, I think.”  
  


               “What do you mean by, ‘you think’?” Hermione asked slowly, as she turned and leaned against the counter behind her.  
  


Sighing, Harry begun to explain, “a couple of weeks ago, while organizing the contents of my family’s vault, I found this… key.” He shot the couple looks when they were about to interrupt, and they closed their mouths, waiting for him to finish. “It didn’t seem to come with an accompanying lock, so I had the goblins look into it for me.” He shot Hermione a pointed look.  
  


               “So that’s why you had me looking up information about Elizabeth Swann?” Hermione put together. “So she’s your ancestor or something?”  
  


Nodding, “yes. Surprisingly, from my mother’s side of the family. From there, well… you know how little we managed to gather past where she apparently lived and died.”  
  


               “So what, you’re going to go all the way to Jamaica to go digging around just because of some bloody key?” Ron asked incredulously. “Honestly Harry, don’t you think we’ve had enough excitement for one life? You want to go looking for more?”  
  


               “ _No_ ,” Harry insisted, somewhat irritated that Ron would infer such a thing. He sighed, “look, you know how after the… war,” he looked outside the window, “I just… I feel like I’m just… drifting around without a purpose.”  
  


Ron frowned, and Harry just knew Hermione probably had some pitying expression on as he looked down at where his hands were curled around the back of a chair, a finger absentmindedly scratching at the wood. “Ever since I found out I was ‘ _Harry Potter’_ , it was like I was born to either stop Voldemort or die trying. But now that it’s all over it’s like… I don’t know what I’m living for anymore.”  
  


A hand on his shoulder had him looking up at Hermione, a worried gaze in her expression. “Oh Harry,” was all she said.  
  


               “I know you guys, and everyone really, are ready to move on with your lives,” he continued, looking at her and then at Ron. “But this made me think that maybe I could use a break. Just… get away from everything be alone for a bit.” He shot them a half-hearted smile, “maybe getting away from England for awhile might do me some good.”  
  


Squeezing his shoulder, Hermione nodded. “Ok Harry,” she replied, a sad sort of resignation in her voice. She had noticed Harry becoming slightly distant ever since the final battle but didn’t expect him to be feeling this conflicted. “I support whatever you feel you need to do.”  
  


               “Same here, mate,” agreed Ron. “’Course, I’m not too happy about you going so far but… if that’s what you gotta do, then I understand.”  
  


               “Thanks guys,” he smiled, exhaling softly in relief. He gestured to the items he had placed on the table. “I know you guys’ be able to find me if you ever need me, but I wrote down the details of where I’ll be heading to for you. There’s also a two-way mirror I had made if you need to reach me.”  
  


Hermione reached over and picked up the scribbled note, nodding as she read the details. “Thanks Harry,” she really did appreciate that he put some effort into keeping them in the loop at least. She glanced at the bag on his back, “you’re leaving now?”  
  


Nodding, “I’m heading to Gringotts to make some last-minute preparations; they’ve also helped organize a portkey there and travel papers for me.”  
  


Pushing off the counter with a sigh, Hermione reached over and wrapped Harry in a hug. “Alright then. Safe travels, Harry, and make sure you keep us informed if anything happens.”  
  


               “Knowing your luck, mate, something will,” Ron joked, standing to join in on the group hug. Harry laughed and slapped him on the shoulder in half-hearted retaliation. Not long after, they separated and Harry stepped through their floo to the sight of the couple waving goodbye.


	4. Chapter 4

Smiling awkwardly at the immigration officer who blinked at his papers – notably his name – and then at him for a moment before nonchalantly stamping a seal over them and returning them. Harry thanked him and passed through the international portkey arrival area, and out the building, which exited into the heart of Kingston, capital of Jamaica.  
  


Luckily, he’d had some sense – lies, it was Hermione, he had no sense – to change some money into the local muggle currency. He’d also set up an international credit card with Gringott’s muggle counterpart bank should he need more.  
  


Catching a taxi, he arrived in Port Royal hardly thirty minutes later. Stretching, Harry set off to find some food first before starting his exploration.

* * *

Later finding himself at a local museum, Harry skipped straight to the town’s most famous part of its’ history – the pirating era. Harry read, with growing interest – he was still a teenage boy after all and who could resist a story about pirates – about Port Royal’s era as a ‘pirate utopia’, the “Sodom of the New World”, until it’s demise into a sunken city.  
  


Apparently a majority of the original city lay at least forty feet underwater, which meant that he might have to test out a bubble-head charm if he wanted to go take a closer look. As he read further about the city’s pirating history, he landed on the list, _Notable Pirates from Port Royal_.  
  


Skimming the list, his eyes landed on _Elizabeth Swann (suspected)_. He stared at the engraving for a good while before snapping out of his daze when his gaze caught sight of a numbered red dot. It corresponded two similar dots on a map of Port Royal, including the sunken region. The map stated that it showed the possible residences to the pirates whose names were on the previous list.  
  


Committing the two locations to memory, he exited the museum.

* * *

After night had fallen, Harry stood at the edge of a pier, in a transfigured wetsuit. Making sure he was in the right direction, he dived in, simultaneously casting a bubble-head charm. Once deep enough, he cast lumos and swam closer to the underwater city that seemed even more eerie at night.  
  


If not for the level of decay and damage, Harry could almost feel like he had stepped back in time centuries ago. After some confusion, he finally found what would have been the Governor’s residence. Looking around, the damage was too severe to attempt going inside to look for any clues.  
  


As he swam around the area, he noticed a few knick-knacks that have yet to be discovered by muggle divers and researchers, however none of which hinted to any relation to the Swann family. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised – by the time the city had sunk, Elizabeth had long passed away and he doubted her son would have become governor, with a parent suspected of being a pirate.  
  


Harry emerged out of the water and spelled himself dry efficiently before laying on the pier, sighing to himself. He fingered the key that he had strung onto a simple necklace to keep close to him as he watched the stars.

* * *

Harry spent the next three days wandering around Port Royal. Mingling with the locals, enjoying the difference from back home. On the first day, he had attempted to fish out some information from some locals who had family history in the island but he soon found out most people didn’t like to talk much about the past before the sinking – considering it a shameful history as anyone connected had likely been a criminal at the time.  
  


On the evening of the fourth day, he finally dragged himself up a hill to the second location he had seen on the museum map. It was a little ways out of the city itself, situated separately on top of a hill, not far from a cliff leading to the ocean. It was one of the few places that had survived the great earthquake that had sunk most of the city four centuries prior, mostly due to how high up it was.  
  


However, it was long abandoned. Supposedly, Elizabeth Swann and her son were the only residents of the small house there, however the centuries that have passed – not to mention the severe earthquake that had shocked the town – had weathered what remained of it into mere rubble and ruins.  
  


After scouring the area and determining that what remained was absolutely useless, Harry begun a trek downhill towards the cliff at the edge of the land. It was an unusually windy night compared to the last few days, and as Harry neared the edge of the cliff, he noted that the sun was beginning to set.  
  


He sat down on the grass, legs dangling carelessly over the edge, as he watched the sun set over the horizon. He blinked just as the last rays of the sun seemed to slip under the ocean before a flash of green light had him jerking up in sudden alert at the familiar _Avada Kedavra_ hue.  
  


Before his very eyes, a large, imposing ship appeared where the sun had just been. Harry’s breath caught, mind racing with thoughts like _where the bloody hell did that appear from?_ to _that doesn’t look like any ship I’ve seen before_.  
  


Said ship was approaching faster than normally possible, and as Harry stood on the cliffside, he noticed a figure standing by the figurehead. Even at their distance apart, Harry knew instantly when both him and the figure locked eyes on one another; him still in wary fascination, and the other in shock.

 

Their gazes stay locked on one another even as the figure seems to speak to whoever else may be on board, the ship’s course altering from the port towards Harry. Heart thudding, Harry’s hands clenched and unclenched as he decided what to do.  
  


As the ship neared the coast, Harry made his decision and with a steeled determination and a healthy dose of Constant Vigilance in the back of his mind, he leapt off the edge of the cliff.


	5. Chapter 5

Cushioning his landing with a non-verbal aresto momentum, Harry landed lightly on his feed and slowly made his way over towards the ship floating just a ways down the coast. He stopped at a fair enough distance to be out of range should anything happen, and watched as a few figures above begun preparing to anchor whilst the figure he had made eye contact with swung himself overboard, landing with a wet thud in the water.  
  


Harry was slightly surprised to see the figure was a young – looked like he was in his early thirties – man, dressed comfortably in what looked like… period clothing? Green eyes swept down the details of the simple outfit the man wore, from the loose-fitting shirt to the tall, leather boots and even the bandana covering his head.  
  


Before he could ponder further, said man stopped at arm’s length, silently watching him. “Hi?” said Harry, for lack of a better response to the situation.  
  


               “Who are you?” asked the man plainly, eyeing Harry like a surprisingly hard puzzle he’d found.  
  


               “Isn’t it good manners to introduce yourself before asking someone’s name?” Harry pointed out drily. “My name is Harry Potter,” he answered anyway, fingers fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt, just a twitch away from sliding his wand of out the holster on his forearm. The man before him showed no recognition at his name, however, which just raised more questions than it answered.  
  


               “William Turner,” replied the other man, “Captain of the Flying Dutchman”. Will watched the young man before him closely to see what his reaction would be but was surprised which part he reacted to.  
  


 _Flying Dutchman? Is that the name of his ship or something? People actually name their ships?_ Thought Harry before his mind tugged him back to the name. William Turner. As in… “wait, William Turner as in the one who knew Elizabeth Swann?”  
  


Blinking in surprise, Will took a step back at the name of his beloved he had not uttered for many a century save in his own memory. Heart tight, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “How do you know of me?”  
  


               “You?” Harry repeated incredulously. “If you were _that_ William Turner you’ve got to be, what, six hundred years old by now?” He stopped mid-chuckle to stare at the captain. “Unless you’re not a muggle…”  
  


               “What in god’s graces is a muggle?” Will asked, bewildered by the wariness exuding the man, Harry. “I _am_ that William Turner. And I’m the _captain_ of the Flying Dutchman, ring any bells?”  
  


               “No?” Harry answered immediately. He had the feeling they were on two completely different wavelengths in this conversation and the more they spoke the more confused they got.  
  


               “The captain of the Dutchman never dies,” another voice cut into the building tension. Both men looked over to another figure that had exited the ship, nodding once towards Will who acknowledged him in return.  
  


               “I’m Captain Turner’s first mate, William Turner,” he introduced himself, “and also his father.” At the stranger’s incredulous stare, he added “but call me Bill.”  
  


               “What do you mean ‘never dies’,” Harry repeated, unconvinced. “I’m assuming by the fact no-one else has noticed your ship appearing out of nowhere that you’re all magicals?” Harry missed the bewildered look that passed between the two man across him, “but you can’t be—” he stopped. Harry was going to say, ‘you can’t be _immortal_ , because that’s impossible’, only to remember that he himself might as well be, as the ‘Master of Death’.  
  


Brow raised at the younger man’s halted speech, William replied, “I’m not immortal, but I won’t die unless I’m killed either.” His lips twitched upwards in amusement at the growing confusion on the man – Harry’s – face. “You speak of… ‘magicals’. Are you one?” He thought back to Tia Dalma, although she turned out to be a _goddess_. “And if you’ve never heard of the Dutchman, then how do you know of me?” _and of Elizabeth_ , went unsaid.  
  


Avoiding the first question – though Harry was given a lot of free reign post-war, even he was wary about breaking the Statute of Secrecy to a stranger – and instead perked up at the second question. “I don’t, actually. I found out recently that one Elizabeth Swann may have been a distant ancestor of mine and came here looking for some information on her and read about you.” It was still weird to think the person he had been reading up in museums and books until yesterday was standing right in front of him.  
  


               “Your… ancestor?” Will repeated, face slack in disbelief. He couldn’t imagine entertaining such a thought, given how he’d always assumed that after his son had stopped coming to meet him on shore for his once-in-ten-years visit on land, that he’d either passed away or left to live his own life. But he’d never had imagine that his line would have continued… until even now. “And how exactly did you manage to trace your… lineage back to… Elizabeth?” the name of his beloved left his lips in almost a whisper, word turned unfamiliar in _centuries_ of disuse.  
  


Deciding to be frank, hoping that he might be able to get the answers he seeked, Harry dug around in a drawstring pouch he had on him. “While sorting through some of my family vaults not long ago, I came across this,” he pulled out the key that had started it all, oblivious to the wide eyes and sharp intake of breaths from the men across him. “My… accounts managers helped me to trace it’s origin to my mother’s side of the family, and after some more digging we traced it back to Elizabeth Swann.”  
  


Looking up, Harry took in the shell-shocked expressions of both men and their intense stares at the key in his hands. He curled his fingers around the key carefully, not fully trusting either to not snatch it away. “I was told that it may have belonged to her, as we have no further records past that.” He looked eyes with Will, “from your expression, am I right to assume that you know what this key is?”  
  


               “H—Mr Potter,” Will stuttered, flustered. “I think this conversation might be better had in some more privacy.” He looked back towards his ship, and some of his crew disembarking and making their way towards town. “If it suits you, we can discuss this in my quarters.” Though he had no idea what he was going to say to this stranger—no, not stranger, his… _descendant_ , he owed him this much.  
  


Glancing carefully between Will and the looming ship docked just past the shore, Harry felt like he could trust these men not to harm him…. without reason. Even then, he trusted his own instincts and abilities enough to at least hold his own if it came to it.  
  


               “Alright,” he acquiesced. “Lead the way.”


End file.
